


twenty nine

by wizardcity



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2015, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:30:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardcity/pseuds/wizardcity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No, Yaku Morisuke definitely doesn’t fall in love with Haiba Lev at first sight. They’re not going to be friends. It’s as simple as that: nothing more, nothing less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	twenty nine

It’s not like Yaku doesn’t like Haiba Lev on first sight — _what’s there_ not to _like_ , his brain offers a feeble response, the kind of thing Yaku keeps clamped down on because his brain can’t keep up with the toothy smiles, loud yelps of elated surprise, that small little dimple that emerges when Lev smiles a bit too big and —

Yaku blinks once, looks down, notices the telltale scraggle of his handwriting calculating the asymptote of an absurd-looking function and sighs. Yaku turns his attention to a voice at the head of the room, eyes roaming, until he finally settles on a piece of paper lying on the ground — a prank, a love note, a secret. He spends the rest of the afternoon thinking about volleyball practice that afternoon; it’s something he indulges in occasionally, when lessons are trivial and the thought of college is a bit too far away to think about.

It’s the beginning of spring and it’s been exactly one week since Yaku Morisuke had first met all one hundred and ninety four centimeters of Haiba Lev.

(They’re not going to be friends.)

# # #

Their first practice together never could be called a _real_ practice — Kuroo had introduced Lev with a cheesy flourish while Lev bowed so low to the ground that some of his silver hair grazed the ground.

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance! I'm Haiba Lev, middle blocker!" Lev said to the ground beneath him and Kuroo sniggered into his hand, fighting hard to keep a smile off his face. Kenma frowned a little, perplexed, while Inuoka let out several, bark-like laughs. Yaku decided to reserve his judgements about Lev, who honestly speaking, looked utterly foolish all bent over like that. Yaku wasn't even sure how exactly he had managed to go so _low_.

But then, Lev unravels himself and stands to his full height, and Taketora lets out a deep, long whistle which is appropriate because shit, _shit_ — he's _tall_. Yaku's eyes take it all in until he finally reaches his eyes and he's surprised: there's some fire in there, like a lion's roar, full of passion and promise and pride and hope and a million other things too intense for Yaku to know the names of.

"I'm Haiba Lev," he repeats, "I'm your new ace."

Inuoka guffaws, Kenma's eyes open a bit too wide and Kuroo doubles over, now shaking with laughter. There's so much noise reverberating around the gymnasium now and Haiba Lev is just standing there in the middle of all it, looking unnerved but nevertheless completely sure about himself.

Kuroo finally finds some voice in his lungs, pats Lev's back heartily and dismisses the statement entirely.

They all start practice with a few last chuckles and snickers but Yaku knows, right then and there, that he's the only one who, even remotely, will ever take Haiba Lev seriously. It leaves a funny feeling in his stomach but he chooses not to think about it, instead choosing to engrave the feel of a gorgeously-received volleyball into his bones.

(Yaku retracts his earlier statement when he observes the following things that evening:

— The pathetic, _patheti_ c state of Lev's receives: too much extra movement of his arms, the wrong side of his arms to the ball, the wrong angle of his arms.

—  The fact that half, no, not even a third of his throwing spikes make it over the net.

— "Wow, you're Yaku, huh? I never knew people this _short_ could still be allowed to play volleyball!")

Yaku loses all his hope, confidence, whatever he classified _it_ as, promptly at the end of practice. Someone that incompetent at even the basics couldn't amount to much, he surmises, as he picks up his water bottle.

"He's terrible," Kenma comments flatly, eyes fixed on whatever video game was popular this month.

Yaku hums a wordless, affirmative response as he watches Lev stagger melodramatically to the ground when Kuroo asks him for a hand with rolling up the net.

(Yet, Yaku still can't seem to get over that hopeful, self-entitled look in Lev's eyes. He's never seen anything quite like it and he's not sure if it bothers him of if it intrigues him so he parcels that thought and memory away for another day, maybe a boring afternoon in his calculus class or when he's lying in bed, unable to sleep.)

(What Yaku doesn't know is that he'll be kept up for the next three nights doing exactly that.)

# # #

Lev comes over the next week, during lunch break, to ask Yaku if he could get some help with his receives. There's an eagerness about him that's impossible to ignore so, Yaku says yes, sure, he'll help however he can and it's definitely, _definitely_ not because Lev was smiling the entire time, all tooth and barely any lip, dimples adorning his cheeks.

They exchange numbers and Yaku forgets about the entire event promptly.

(He doesn't forget about that smile.)

Yaku gets an energetic text within the same hour, full of spelling errors and badly placed emoticons, asking if they could meet that afternoon for some practice. He thumbs back a simple "sure", as if that one word could describe everything he feels in that single moment in time.

# # #

Practice goes well — they meet every few days, until Yaku resigns that the best Lev is going to get at receiving is a solid two out of every ten tries.

"That's not something to be proud of," Yaku reprimands, when he tells this observation to Lev and sees the surprised, giddy joy plain on his face. Lev isn't one for secrets, Yaku supposes; there's so much emotion emanating from him that there was no way to contain it.

But Lev smiles a bit bigger anyways, as if to spite him, throwing Yaku a thumbs up. That dimple shows up in his left cheek again and Yaku tries to think of anything else — but Lev stands up just in time and picks up the volleyball lying near the pavement.

"Thanks for this." Lev says simply, looking up at Yaku for once.

Yaku looks down, blinks twice and looks away, fingers twining themselves in one another behind his back, something he only does when he's nervous.

Lev laughs at nothing in particular and falls against the pavement. Yaku sits down next to him and looks off into the distance, thinking about many things — college, the future, the smell of summer heat against concrete, the sound of someone's laugh amidst the broiling heat.

# # #

Yaku's not sure what _they_ are now; they're already past being merely acquaintances and Yaku knows they've always been team members ever since that first day (as cheesy as it sounds) but he's not sure if they're anything more than friends but even if they're not it's okay and —

He finds himself thinking about this much too often for his liking, in the worst of times: during practice, in the middle of tests, before he falls asleep.

Practice goes on as usual: Kenma passes as usual, Yaku receives and the rest connect it all, as the same body, as they always have been. He starts noticing Lev's slow, slow improvement and admires that whip-like spike that always sucks the air out of his lungs without him knowing it.

Lev drags Yaku to team gatherings on the weekend without him knowing and the weeks pass by like that, melding into nothing but smiles and loud laughter and school and spikes and the familiar thuds of knees and volleyballs against laminated floors.

Yaku wishes it would never end.

# # #

Obviously, there are things about Lev that bother Yaku sometimes, like a little nagging feeling that gathers in his temples. He's too prideful sometimes, too confident in himself and his somewhat mediocre abilities (they're not _that_  bad anymore, now that Yaku's been working with him), too sure of himself. Sometimes, during practice, it'll show a little bit, that same glint in his eyes but a little sharper than before, a bit too intense for a first year at this point in the year.

Yaku warns Kuroo about it after practices sometimes, but Kuroo just laughs it off — "It's good to be this spirited! He still has a lot of time to improve, unlike you and me."— and moves on to lecture Taketora about the proper way to ask a cute girl out, a way that doesn't involve Taketora screaming up at a classroom on the second floor.

Lev brushes up right next to him, too close, smelling of sweat and they stand in comfortable silence. Time stops for Yaku at moments like these and when Lev starts walking out the door and nods at Yaku to follow him, time starts moving again.

# # #

They start doing a lot of things together, things that normal friends, teammates talk about doing and never end up doing it, but Yaku goes along with it because the company of Lev is nicer than others and frankly, there's nothing better to do when college is soon and they're out of the tournament already. They take long walks in the still, cool evening air, routes that change and wind around Lev's neighborhood until Yaku can close his eyes and remember every leaf of every tree, every childish scrawl in chalk on the pavement . Sometimes they bounce a volleyball around in the middle of the night, and Lev sometimes gets an earful from angry moms trying to lull their kids to sleep which he skillfully evades with that dashing smile of his.

Sometimes they just sit on the surprisingly quiet porch of Lev's house, staring out at nothing in particular, listening to the muted clamor of Lev's siblings romping around the house. Whenever Yaku was around Lev, his life seemed to be full of noise: laughter, bad jokes, loud chomping, excited hoots and shouts. It was a nice change of pace from his quiet upbringing; with Lev, he felt a little bit looser, a bit more free. He had always been pegged as a goody-two-shoes ever since he was a kid, too stuck-up and proper but with Lev, he was free to shout and hit and say whatever was on his mind.

Lev didn't care what Yaku said, not one bit and that, that was the thing that Yaku admired the most about him. Lev was always so happy and open and cheerful and all of these other words swirled around in his head when he tried to clearly define what Lev meant to him, he felt a bit too dizzy.

Yaku thought too hard about most things, but when it came to Lev, he left most things up to his imagination.

(He found that it was more exciting that way.)

# # #

It would be weird if they _didn't_ fight, because, after all they're high school boys, full of surly comments and unruly hormones. It's never physical, that's the one good thing he can say, but it’s the kind of fights where too hot, too bitter remarks are thrown around, no care being given to how harsh the words were being crafted and delivered. Lev’s voice rises until he’s yelling, face pallid and stretched tight, as if he’s holding a flood’s worth of words while Yaku’s voice goes low, teeth grinding against one another, adding scary texture to the words he’s spitting.

This particular fight starts with something petty. Yaku doesn’t remember because it doesn’t matter and it’s the way that Lev is acting now that has him more angry than before. There’s something arrogant and haughty in the way Lev’s eyes glare at him, like Yaku’s something from the dirt and _god,_ Lev’s always like this when he thinks he’s right —

“How can you think it’s _my_ fault? You’re the only one who always seems against me during practice,” Lev says angrily, with a little tinge of sadness in his eyes that makes Yaku look away for a single millisecond.

“Well, maybe when it was actually _your_ fault, you would admit it.” Yaku punctuates every words with a pointed finger to Lev’s chest.

“You’ve got too much pride for someone with so little talent. You’re never going to be our ace.”

“At least I have my pride. All you can do is complain about me when you have no pride of your own.” Lev scoffs bitterly, looking down at Yaku with a smug expression that he’s never seen the likes of.

Yaku _swears_ he sees red but he takes a deep, shuddering breath through his nose and grabs Lev by the shirt collar and drags him down to eye level. Yaku doesn’t say anything and lets Lev go after a few seconds.

(Yaku lies about it never being physical, but sometimes, his emotions get the better of him.)

(They don’t talk for a week and a half, a new record, but one day, Yaku finds himself walking instinctively near Lev’s house and he sees Lev slouched along the front step.)

(Their eyes meet and they both say sorry at exactly the same time and it’s something right out the movies. Lev laughs and invites him inside for ice cream — _but I’m not sure if there’s any left_ , he admits sheepishly —)

(And everything falls back into place.)

# # #

Yaku will never say it but he’s glad Lev’s around, even if this was their first and last year in high school together. They balance each other out; Yaku keeps Lev modest while Lev keeps Yaku hopeful and happy for the future, as cheesy as it sounds.

It’s easy and light — whatever their relationship turns out to be, Yaku is sure to enjoy it. There’s so much joy and happiness in Lev’s life that it can’t help but rub off on him: he starts smiling at odd times, during class or practice, or hums a song Lev was singing along to on the radio.

It’s the end of high school for Yaku but that evening, when he takes that well-trodden path under the stars and Lev’s hands brush against his, it feels like it’s starting all over again, whatever _it_ is. 


End file.
